


Discovery

by xxMad_Donaxx



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, Gen, Self-Discovery, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxMad_Donaxx/pseuds/xxMad_Donaxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Discovering who you are isn't always easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discovery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadowfire_RavenPheonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowfire_RavenPheonix/gifts).



> This would not have happened without your patience and encouragement. Thanks Shadow.

Age 14

“Now count off to five,” Mrs. Anderson said.

Mary grimaced and slouched a little in her chair. She said the next number when it was her turn and reluctantly sat with all of the other fours. The three others, two girls and one boy, were silent for a moment. One of the girls made a face and dug out a sheet of paper. Mary held in a sigh and sat back in her borrowed seat. She paid only enough attention to her group to know what their suggestions would be. Any suggestion she made would be picked apart and thrown out so she didn’t bother making one.

This was one of two ways group work always went for her. She was ignored or she did all the work. Mary despised it. The discussion phase was finally over and she stayed seated as the self-appointed spokes-person of her group stood. While she read off of her notes, Mary’s attention wandered. Her classmate was in jeans, like Mary was, but her jeans fit. There was no excess in the rear, they weren’t rolled up at the bottom, and she stared at the girl’s bottom. After a moment she forced herself to pay attention. Staring at a girl’s rear wasn’t something another girl was supposed to do. Mary shoved away the confusing feelings and focused on the teacher.

Age 16

Wind whipped through the streets as Mary sat on the wall surrounding her school. A book was held tightly in one hand, her index finger tucked into the pages to mark her place. Other kids walked or ran, laughing and joking with friends or siblings on their way home. Mary watched them pass, a little envious, a little sad. She didn’t have any classes with the friends she’d had in grade school and gradually they had just stopped talking to each other. They were faces in the hall now.

One girl walked by, heading into the wind, and Mary watched. The wind blew her unzipped jacket behind, pressed the loose shirt she wore against her body. Mary’s head swiveled slowly, to keep her in view longer, to see her breasts that the wind made very visible. She hunched a little to hide the mounds of flesh on her own chest. By now she knew what the tingling between her legs meant but didn’t understand why other girls made her feel strange down there and the boys didn’t. Weren’t girls supposed to like guys?

Mary tore her gaze away and jumped down off the wall. She headed for home confident that no one would be staring at her breasts or her bottom. The baggy pants she always wore and the layers on top ensured concealment.

Age 18

The room was dark even though no one else was home. Mary lay on her bed completely naked. Her boyfriend was also naked, his penis stiff and already covered with a condom. A stray thought floated through her head as she felt his hands on her breasts. The little girl she used to be sitting in a hidden corner with a book she’d found on the shelf, looking at pictures of what men had that women didn’t. Even then she knew she wasn’t supposed to be seeing those bits. That was the first time she’d felt sexually aroused.

Now she knew where that went when it was erect. It wasn’t his forbidden zone being laid bare to her that had her aroused now. The attention he’d shown her before-hand, long ago at the beginning of their senior year. A conversation about video games, a past time girls were not supposed to enjoy but she loved them as much as she loved her books. That had led to discovering other shared interests, going to one another’s homes; more talk and finally to her first ever date. Five months later here she was, letting him see what no other had. Eager to feel what she’d only heard about from eavesdropping and movies.

She had never been brave enough to put her fingers where his dick was about to go. That didn’t mean she hadn’t discovered how to give herself an orgasm. Pinching her nipples and rubbing her clitoris usually did the trick while she thought about the girls she still only stared at. The thought of something inside there, even her own fingers, had made her uncomfortable. She was nervous now but not uncomfortable. That’s what a vagina was for after all, holding a dick and pushing out the baby.

When it was done, the condom in the trash and him on his way home, Mary lay in her dark room wondering if she’d done it wrong. She’d felt nothing down there at all. Disappointed she rolled onto her side, curled up to hide her defective body.

Age 23

Mary lay on the bed apprehensively, an IV stuck in one hand and a monitoring device strapped to her two weeks overdue pregnant belly. Getting pregnant hadn’t been a planned thing. They hadn’t had a condom and she’d never used birth control pills. Going to the gynecologist was an ordeal in the first place and if one didn’t have sex one didn’t need birth control. This man, the father of her child, the abusive and manipulative person she now knew him to be, had swept her off her feet with sweet words and attention.

Sex had happened fast and as often as possible. As starved for that attention as she was it was easy to forget the consequences. Through him she discovered a way to make sex enjoyable for her, on top to make sure she rubbed her clitoris against his body while he enjoyed her unfeeling core. Of course it happened often. Naturally getting pregnant would be the one thing her otherwise frustrating body would be good at.

Five months in to the pregnancy and six into the relationship Mary discovered what a horrific mistake she’d made. She couldn’t stand to have anything around her neck now. In a fit of anger at her stubborn refusal to act the way he wanted her to he’d wrapped his hands around her neck, cutting off her airway. Only her abnormally long arms and his abnormally short ones had saved her. By all rights with over a foot of height difference she and the baby should be dead. She had just enough length to push in his Adam’s apple, cutting off his air in return.

Now she lived with her mother, fighting depression that had been constant since she’d become an adult. Friendless she only had her family to rely on to help her raise the child she’d refused to give up. Mary was terrified. If she couldn’t learn how to smile and be happy this child would end up with their father. In the months before him and even a few times after, she’d toyed with the idea of ending her miserable existence. She had this innocent baby now being forced out of her body by drugs that mimicked something it obviously didn’t produce to thank for her life now. The least she could do is try to make sure their childhood wasn’t an unhappy one like hers had been.

In the early hours of the morning, nearly a full day in labor, Mary met her son. She named him Benjamin Brian Hawke. Breast feeding wasn’t an option due to her need to work. In the days that followed Mary both lamented and was glad that she hadn’t breast fed him. All of the literature and all of the experts agreed that breast milk was best. That’s what they were for after all, feeding the baby that grew in a woman’s belly and exited her body through the same channel it arrived in. He wouldn’t have all of the antibodies or other benefits from her milk. The thought of this innocent life she’d created sucking on her breast was disconcerting however. Despite that discomfort she knew it would be best. Ultimately she was glad when they stopped hurting and leaking. There was no longer a choice.

Age 24

Mary lounged on the couch in front of her TV. Ben was napping on the floor amongst his toys and she glanced at him now and then through the tears welling in her eyes. The screen was blurry from those same tears and she swiped at them periodically. She operated the controller in her hands without thinking, making her male character on the screen dance around a two headed monstrosity with his blades slashing and cutting. This particular game usually helped when she was frustrated or upset. Murdering monsters wasn’t helping much this time.

She opened the menu and set the controller on the arm of her couch. Mary scrubbed at her eyes and took a hitching breath. Ben should have a father. The man who’d contributed the other half of his genes simply wouldn’t do. It seemed that her taste in men was terrible however. He had seemed nice but he just wanted to put his prick inside her and his mouth on her breasts, things Mary no longer cared about in the least.

More and more she found herself in this state, desperately unhappy for some reason or another. She sobbed quietly for a few minutes, trying not to wake Ben sleeping peacefully and blissfully ignorant at the moment. Eventually the storm passed and Mary started at her son. It struck her that she was no closer to fixing herself than the day he’d been born.

Age 24, three months later

The internet had to be the best thing modern people had created. She spent hours searching through self-help sites and the personal blogs of people who’d gotten past similar problems. Discovering that her attraction to women was quite normal helped but that didn’t solve all of her problems. It didn’t explain why she’d never felt comfortable in her own skin or why she wasn’t very girly.

There was no desire to put on make-up or fuss with her hair. Since Ben had begun grabbing handfuls of her hair Mary had cut it short. She discovered that she preferred it short. She hadn’t worn a dress or a skirt since she was five or six much to her mother’s displeasure. Now that she was actively shunning contact with others she’d stopped shaving her legs and most of the time under her arms as well. Her shirts always had sleeves so what was the point? She had never really cared about clothes but she stopped caring about her clothing entirely.

Then she met Dawn. A regular at the restaurant she worked at, Dawn fascinated her. Her voice was deep, her Adam’s apple clearly visible unlike any other woman she knew. Mary was certain her breasts were real however and suspected Dawn had not begun her life as a woman. Through quick conversations before ordering Mary discovered she was right. Dawn was transgender.

Age 25

After months spent devouring anything she could find on gender identity and seeking out testimonials of other transgender people, Mary wondered if that’s what she was. Years spent hiding her body and the discomfort she’s always felt made sense. She didn’t quite believe however. As a child she’d been called a tomboy more often than not. As a lesbian she would have been considered butch. Neither meant she felt male while her body was not.

She watched Ben toddling around her living room, deep in thought. Just what was her gender identity? None of this information had been readily available when she was young. Most of the things she read the people always claimed to know when they were going through puberty. Mary had not. She just knew her changing body was uncomfortable. Ben moved into the kitchen and she stood to follow, putting all of it out of her mind.

Age 26

Mary sat at her mother’s table, her family around her, smiling. After much thought and soul searching she knew what was wrong with her. Her gender identity didn’t match her physical gender. She was transgender. The small town of Lothering wasn’t very accepting of different people however and Mary remained a female. Inside she knew however. There were little things she did. Things no one noticed and likely didn’t care about. She kept her hair short, in a man’s style rather than a woman’s. She wore men’s clothing, anything she could realistically get away with. It wasn’t all she wanted but it was enough. 


End file.
